


Rear Metropolis

by Hobbit_Riddlebird



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon in a Wheelchair, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Bisexual Bruce Wayne, Bisexual Clark Kent, Gen, Inspired by Rear Window (1954), M/M, Secret Crush, Secret Identity, Voyeurism, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbit_Riddlebird/pseuds/Hobbit_Riddlebird
Summary: Rear Window AUAfter breaking his leg Bruce is stuck in Metropolis to heal and spy on the handsome neighbor across his window but he thinks there might be more to him than meets the eye.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 18
Kudos: 199





	Rear Metropolis

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Hitchcock movie Rear Window with a Superbat twist.
> 
> Hope you like !!

Bruce wheeled himself to the apartment door and managed to unlock it by pushing himself up and leaning over the arm of the wheelchair with his upper torso. Between locking and unlocking the door alone he was going to get a nasty bruise on his side before the end of the week.

He was tempted to buy the building and have all the locks lowered on the doors but he was in Metropolis incognito and didn't want to blow his cover.

Barbara Gordon smiled on the other side of the door from her own wheelchair, bags of groceries in her lap. She wheeled herself in with a grace and speed he would never match however long he was in the chair. 

"Gotta admit, Bruce," she tossed the bags onto the kitchen counter without spilling a thing. "It's nice to see you on my level again, forgot what you looked like not towering over me all the time," she laughed. 

"Barbara, I told you, you didn't have to come down and take care of me," he shut the door but didn't bother to lock it. He wheeled closer to her, aware of her watchful eyes on him. 

"Not bad," she judged. "But you're using your body too much, the power should come from your arms. Like so," she pushed her wheelchair back and forth. "You're gonna get too many bruises your way. And let me tell you, chair bruises are worse than anything I ever got as Batgirl." 

"Who's covering for Oracle?" Bruce asked. 

"Tim. He's smart and we have this," she flashed her secure mobile. "We decided I was the best one suited for the job," she gestured toward the chair. "For obvious reasons." 

"I don't need your help," his words came out harsher than he intended. 

"You accepted my help before the chair," she sat still. "Do you think I am incapable of helping you now?" 

Anyone would be a fool to not believe Barbara Gordon was just as capable in the wheelchair as she had been out of it.

"Don't be ridiculous," Bruce wished he had use of his legs at that moment so he could walk away. "You know no one fought harder for you to stay in the family than I did." 

"One person fought harder, me," she pointed to herself. "And you don't get to take that from me." 

Their relationship has been strained during the long road to recovery, and the Joker's sentencing to Arkham, but he thought they were rebuilding their partnership. 

"You're right," he said. She had more than proven herself and Oracle was even more of an asset to the team than Batgirl ever was, even if he found himself missing Batgirl. 

"You don't think I don't know what this is about? Why you've decided to stay here in Metropolis instead recovering back home in Gotham," she wheeled closer. "You don't want us to see you weak. You don't want anyone to see you in that chair. You don't think I get it? You think I don't get it?" 

"It's not the same -," he didn't even know how he going to finish that.

"Yeah, you're right, it's not, because after your leg heals and you get out of your chair, I'll still be in mine," Barbara took a deep breath. "And if I didn't get a pity part neither do you." 

Bruce had marveled at Barbara's resilience throughout the recovery and rehabilitation, not to say it had always been easy or that there hadn't been anger, but never bitterness, never pity. Joker had thought to break her, and she wasn't stronger, because Bruce knew that was bullshit, but he hadn't broken her spirit. 

If Barbara had been his daughter he couldn't have been prouder. 

"Gotham needs you," he tried to move the chair but the wheel got stuck on the rug. "Gotham needs Oracle." Tim had a brilliant mind but lacked patience, he was a poor substitution for Barbara. 

"Gotham has Dick, Jay, Tim and Damian. Stephanie and Cassandra. And my father," she laughed. "Gotham will be fine for a few weeks. You need to trust your sons, Bruce. They're good men, despite their father's influence," she winked at him. "Dick wanted to be the one to come, you know. But he thought you wouldn't want him," she sighed loudly. "I don't know what happened between you two, he's not talking, you're not talking, but the problem is you're both too much alike. Too stubborn for your own good."

Bruce's relationship with Dick had always been different from the other boys. It wasn't that he was 'the favorite' as he was called by Jay. It was more as his first and oldest adopted son, he was more friend or brother than son. 

And now Dick wanted to make his own way, Bruce understood it but he didn't like it. Dick was breaking up the family unit. 

And... Bruce was being a selfish bastard about it. 

"I'll talk to him when I get back to Gotham," he jerked the wheel past the carpet where it had gotten stuck and nearly toppled out of the chair. 

"Men," she shook her head and moved past him. She wheeled towards the windows and pulled the curtains open. "You're in Metropolis, bask in the sun for once in your life," she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "A girl could get used to this, might even get a tan while I'm here." 

"I think all the sunlight burns off brain cells of the Metropolians here," Bruce wished he had his sunglasses. 

"You really are more bat than man aren't you?" Barbara looked over her shoulder at him. "Speaking of things that fly, have you seen him yet?" 

"Him?" Bruce played ignorant, of course she could only mean one person in Metropolis.

"As if you don't know," she smirked. "But I'll humor you, Superman. I must admit I expected him to be flying around the city like a mascot or something," she looked back out the window and tilted her head up. "Like you but, you know, during the day. And with photo-ops and selfies." 

"I don't fly around Gotham," he scowled. "And no, I haven't seen Superman. If he even exists."

"Not you too," she rolled her eyes at him. "How do you explain all the video evidence?" 

"You know as well as anyone video can be faked," Bruce maneuvers to her side. "If he's real, who is he, where did he come from, where does he hide, what does he eat? He's nothing more than a mascot." 

"You know they say the same thing about the Batman?" She teased. Something caught her eye from across the way. "Well hello, is that your neighbor? The sunlight isn't the only view, is it?" 

Bruce refused to look at the man. "Anyone can look just right in, why does everyone here keep their curtains open, surely it's a security risk." It irritated him.

"Maybe it's a Superman thing?" 

"All the more reason to keep them closed." If Superman really existed, and he had his major doubts, he was hardly someone to be trusted. 

"He's cute," she nodded to the mystery neighbor.

Bruce had already seen him when he first got here. He was handsome in a way rarely seen in Gotham. The type that can only be bought. 

"In a Metropolis kind of way, I guess," he closed the curtains. "Come we have more things to attend to than ogling the neighbors." 

* * *

Bruce was on his own, Barbara had decided to go to Luthor tower for some Intel of her own, and he found himself bored without her presence. 

In fact he found himself missing all the kids. Maybe he should give up the mission and just go back home to Gotham. 

And have to explain to the boys that he had broken his leg trying to get a better look at the infamous Superman, no he would rather stay in this bright and boring Metropolis. 

He wheeled himself to the window and looked out. He was used to watching people under surveillance, in the dark of night, not out in the open like this. And if he could see them, they could see him. He didn't like it. 

As though by design his neighbor came home into his own apartment. The man was handsome he admitted to himself, stupidly handsome and probably empty headed as well. The man disappeared into another room, the bedroom if the layout was the same as his own apartment. 

He should close the curtains. He should call out for dinner and wait for Barbara to come back and update him in what she had discovered. But he found himself curious about his neighbor, he decided to wait and see if he would return, it would be something to occupy his mind anyway.

Finally when he was about to give up the handsome neighbor returned. He had taken off the cheap suit and replaced it with sweats and a white tank. His arms were almost obscenely muscular, maybe even larger than Bane's, but the rest of him ran on the more slim but well built side. The man obviously worked out, but Bruce guessed more for the aesthetics of it than the practicality. Not exactly his type, if he had a type, but he appreciated the view the same. 

He watched his neighbor walk to the stationary bike along the wall and get on it. Bruce knew he should close the curtains, he knew this had probably gone past curiosity into creepiness, and even into peeping tom territory, but he did not. 

The man started off at a slow pace that grew faster with each turn of the wheel. Bruce watched his legs pumping the bike in envy, he was not Barbara, he missed the use of his legs. And he felt guilty that he felt that way. Soon the wheels were moving too fast for even his eyes to detect and yet they seemed to go even faster than before. He was duly impressed by both the strength in his neighbor's legs and his endurance. Impressed and a little turned on.

When suddenly the bike started shaking and fell apart, the pieces blowing outward as though from an explosion, the rider blown backwards to land on his back. Bruce moved to get out of the chair forgetting that he could not but before he would have been able to anything the man was already standing and picking up the pieces of the bike and setting them aside. The man shook his head and laughed, giving Bruce the impression that this has happened before.

It was at that moment that he heard someone unlocking the door from the other side. Barbara had returned. He quickly shut the curtains as though he did not wish to be caught doing something shameful. 

"You need to call the apartment manager to have that lock lowered, Bruce," Barbara wheeled herself in. 

"I'm here in Metropolis undercover," he turned the wheelchair around carefully. "Bruce Wayne making demands of the landlord is hardly keeping a low profile." 

"It's not making demands, Bruce," she moved towards the landline phone. "It's about making the place wheelchair accessible, it's the law." She picked up the receiver. "I'll give them the call now, we can go out to dinner while we wait for them to change the locks. I saw a Greek place down the street I want to try."

Bruce did not feel like going out but he knew when Barbara had her mind set she could be just as stubborn as her father. 

* * *

Bruce was not used to waking up so early, he was more of a night bat, the pun made even him cringe, but the cast on his leg made it difficult to sleep comfortably. 

Barbara on the other hand, he discovered, was very much a morning person. She handed him his coffee, too black for his liking.

"Let's get some morning light in here," she pulled open the curtains full way. "A girl could get spoiled to all this sunlight. Think the Superman needs an Oracle?" 

Bruce knew she was only joking but there was still that panic that she had meant it, that she would leave him, and Gotham, for Metropolis.

"If what they say about him is true, he can read minds," he sipped the bitter coffee, he missed Alfred's. "No need for an Oracle when you can read minds." 

"Maybe not, I wonder what is range would be, or is that why he only stays in Metropolis, do you think his powers could be solar?" She paused. "Hey, seems like your sexy neighbor is an early riser too," she gave a whistle. "And whoa, the sun isn't the only thing that might blind you here. Come on, Bruce, you want to see this, trust me." 

Bruce wanted to deny he was curious, he had told Barbara about the incident with the bike but she had misconstrued his interest as a crush. He moved his wheelchair next to her. 

"Mm," he grunted. His neighbor had obviously just gotten out of bed and was wearing pajama bottoms low on his hips and nothing else. 

"I think you should go over there and introduce yourself," she smiled at him. 

"I'm not... He might not even be...," he cleared his throat. "Maybe you should, you know...," he gestured across the window. 

"What? Go over there and point here and say, that's my friend Bruce, he's gruff but has a heart of gold behind all that rock, oh and hey, did I mention he's totally loaded, and he thinks you're really hot." She looked down at her phone buzzing in her hand. "I have to take this," she answered the phone and holding it in place between her ear and shoulder moved out of Bruce's hearing. 

Meaning it was either Tim with a family problem or Dick with a personal problem. Either way he trusted Barbara to handle it. 

The neighbor had moved to the kitchen area and was cooking breakfast on the stove. It was completely mundane but charmingly domestic. He doesn't even remember the last time he had watched someone make breakfast. 

Maybe he should take Barbara's advice and go over there and... a man like that would surely have a girlfriend, or boyfriend. This wasn't like him. It had been too long, when he got back in Gotham he would take a new lover. A tall dark haired man that regularly visited the gym. 

While his mind had drifted, the stove had caught on fire. Bruce almost yelled out for Barbara but before he could the man lifted the flaming pot with his bare hands and ran it to the sink. Then Bruce thought he must be seeing things because it looked as though the man was blowing on the pot to put the fire out. And once the fire was out, only then, did he turn the water on. 

His neighbor was no ordinary man, he realized.

Barbara came back in, phone put away. "False alarm, nothing to worry about. Bruce... Did something happen?" 

"I need Oracle to dig up anything you can regarding our neighbor." 

"Is this request business or personal?" 

"Business," he answered. 

"I might need Tim to link me into the main computer." 

Bruce didn't like getting the family involved but it couldn't be helped. And if his suspicions were correct they would be anyway. 

"Do it."

* * *

His neighbor was the mysterious Superman of Metropolis, he just needed to prove it. He had watched him for two days without any more incidents but he wasn't ready to give up. 

And finally he got lucky on the third. Barbara was at the library borrowing a computer when the suspect came home earlier than usual from work. He turned on the light but the bulb flickered and died out. His watched his neighbor go to the kitchen cabinet to get a fresh bulb. 

He stood underneath the light fixture and looked briefly out the window. Bruce was thankful he had had the foresight to stay within the shadows of his own apartment. When suddenly to Bruce's amazement, the man floated up and began to change the lightbulb as though floating in the air was the most natural thing on Earth. 

The man dropped down to his feet and disappeared into the bedroom. 

When Barbara eventually came back the curtains were closed and Bruce was wheeling back and forth, in place of his usual pacing. 

"What did you find out?" He asked without greeting. 

"Well hello to you too, I'm fine, thank you for asking," Barbara shut the door. 

"There's been a new development," he wheeled towards her. "I'll update you after you share your intel." 

"Fine, right to business it is," she pulled out her phone where she had kept her notes. "His name is Clark Kent, reporter at the Daily Planet, he's been there three years, he's lived in the apartment since February this year, known relationship with Lois Lane, also reporter at the Daily Planet, they were together for two years but she marked her Facebook status as single on January Fifteenth, also of this year, although the break seems to be friendly, so he's single," she shrugged. "Parents are Martha and Jonathan Kent, raised in Kansas but no hospital record of his birth. No known whereabouts between leaving the farm, so to speak, at seventeen and the day he showed up for work at the Daily Planet at twenty-seven. Jonathan Kent died in a freak storm when Clark was sixteen, Martha still lives in Kansas on the family farm. And Clark still spends every holiday break with her." 

Martha Kent... His mother's name was the same as his mother. Not that it meant anything, it was a common enough name.

"Is that all?" The missing time was suspicious enough to require some digging.

"I forgot the most important part," she slapped her forehead lightly. "Our guy is bisexual." 

Bruce felt a little disappointed, what had he thought she would come right out and say, our guy is Superman. And then what she had said registered. "What?" 

"Clark doesn't have any social media to speak of," she tapped on her phone. "But going through his old classmates photos I found this," she showed him an old photo of two teenage boys at a school dance, the dark haired one kissing the blonde's cheek. "It appears Clark had a boyfriend in high school, it was secret but not so secret, if you know what I mean." 

"The picture proves nothing, you know that." He was disappointed in her assumption.

"I know," she put her phone away. "There is also an article the Daily Planet published during their first Pride at Metropolis. It was published anonymously but running a writing recognition software it was authored by Kent with a ninety percentile. And the author wrote about growing up bisexual in a small ville town. Kent grew up in Smallville Kansas. It's him." 

Bruce couldn't let the news distract him from what was really important.

"My news is bigger," he paused for effect. "Clark Kent is no other than Superman."

Barbara burst out laughing, but stopped when he didn't join her. "Wait, you're serious aren't you?" 

"Always," he told her.

"Bruce, this is paranoid even for you, I think being cooped up in this apartment with nothing to do is driving you batty, no offense." 

"What about the bike incident?" 

"You said yourself, he was going too fast. It was probably installed faulty and broke from the added strain," she reasoned. "Plus he's a heavy guy, as you've noticed."

"And the fire in the kitchen?" 

"The kitchen view is at an angle from here, Bruce," she said calmly. "Your mind supplied what you could not see. Even you said yourself you couldn't be sure."

He saved the best for last. "I saw him fly today, Barbara. While you were gone." 

"What?" He had her interest now.

"The light went out in his apartment and he changed the bulb without a stool or chair." He wished he had the foresight to record it on his equipment.

"Maybe you just didn't see one," she said thoughtfully. "Doesn't mean there wasn't one." 

"I know what I saw," he said. "And more importantly what I didn't see." He wouldn't have believed him either.

"And he just," she put her arm up like someone taking flight. 

"He floated, in place," he admitted reluctantly.

"Okay, benefit of the doubt, I believe you," she sighed. "This means he might be a super but it doesn't mean he's Superman. We'll need more proof." 

It was a start anyway. 

"Search for accidents in his hometown, any miraculous rescues in his vicinity."

"I remember something... I'll go back to the library in the morning." She yawned. "But first food and sleep. You okay with pizza?" 

"Yeah, sure," he was already making his own plans.

* * *

This was quite simply the stupidest idea Bruce had ever had, and that included the idea that had led to his broken leg. But he couldn't let it go. He was obsessed with proving that Clark Kent was Superman. 

Barbara had gone back to the library and would likely be gone all day again, hopefully giving him time to execute his plan and return before she could stop him. 

It had taken some effort to get the window open but it finally slid up, it had apparently been painted shut sometime ago. He checked the harness around his chest and back and checked his grappling hook. Getting across to the other apartment's side railing would be the easy part, it would be getting back to his own that would be the difficult part. 

But he never backed out because something was difficult.

He employed the grappling hook, it shot to the railing across the courtyard. He took a deep breath and engaged the lever that would take him across. Normally this step exhilarated him, it was the closest he could ever come to flying. But in the moment he felt fear. What if he had miscalculated the distance across, what if he had miscalculated the weight of his cast, what if he made it across but was unable to return.

He landed on the other side of the railing, or crash landed. He used the railing to pull himself up and began to work on the window with tools from his utility belt. He had left the batsuit itself back in Gotham but he never went anywhere without the belt. Soon he had the pinpoint hole created and unlocked the latch using a thin wire made for such purpose. He pushed the window easily opened, luck was on his side. He hobbled through the window and into the apartment. 

The first thing he noticed was the smell of cleaner, it was flowery, old fashioned, not the scent of a bachelor pad. Bruce figured it was probably the brand his mother used. The second thing he noticed were the photos on the coffee table, two women were prominent, he recognized both Lois Lane and the mother. The last thing he noticed before hearing someone on the other side of the door, was a Gotham Gazette newspaper with a blurry photograph of Batman on the cover.

Bruce cursed. Had the Superman been on to him the whole time? He heard keys rattling in the door. He hopped to the window and grabbing his supplies prepared for a quick jump back to his own apartment. The grappling hook latched onto his railing without a problem but he knew something had gone wrong as he was between the buildings. The hook became undone and he plummeted down. 

He cursed again, he would face far worse than a broken leg after this fall. Then he felt something halt his fall, no someone, he realized embarrassingly, and then he was being lifted by someone who had their arms around his chest. 

Bruce found himself being placed gently on his own railing. Clark Kent had let him go but kept a hand on him for balance. 

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced," the reporter held out his hand. "Clark Kent." 

Kent had a deep baritone voice that sent shivers down Bruce's back. He had a dimple when he smiled and hair that curled. He was even more charming up close.

"Wayne. Bruce." He shook his hand, Clark's grip was firm but comforting, and warm. 

"I believe you dropped this in my apartment," Kent handed him a batarang that he must have dropped by mistake. "Batman." 

"Superman," he said. 

He had finally found the Superman, or rather the Superman had found him.

**Author's Note:**

> After my first Superbat fic this one was a lot of fun to write! But best not to think about why Clark kept his curtains open (or maybe he was in turn trying to catch a bat.)  
> 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
